


Frostbite

by aboutmikasa (Coco_c)



Series: Fluffmass & Winterfluff [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, I just like fluff, jeankasa - Freeform, mikasa's fluffmas, snow contests and kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coco_c/pseuds/aboutmikasa
Summary: Prompt: "it’s so cold my mouth is numb, you should kiss me before we get frostbite".





	

Jean felt the numbness growing from his toes to his head—if he still had toes. Maybe not all of them, but the little toe would be MIA for sure at the end of the day. When she invited him to the cabin, he pictured an idyllic date, drinking hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows, his arm around her shoulders while the fire in the chimney did its job, keeping them warm. His face flushed with the direction his thoughts kept taking. Outdoor activities didn’t fit in his perfect and imaginary agenda. However, a day with Mikasa would be worth coldness and the loss of his fingers.

Was it a date?

Were they even dating?

For the last two months Jean Kirschtein, against all bets, gathered the courage to ask Mikasa out. They didn’t see each other every day, or week, conceded. Still, movies, coffees, and meals at night in not-that-bad-restaurants had to mean something. She looked enchanting on a regular basis; granted, mystical creatures woke up radiant and perfect with no effort. However, the days they met, she took ravishing to the next level. All those should be signals, pieces of a puzzle and Jean needed to figure it out; he should ask her too, but her possible answer made him nervous.

Connie said Mikasa’s glasses distorted the truth. The same guy reminded him this girl was too good for him, though.

He stared at her and she didn’t notice—their standard interaction. Mikasa looked so happy with the sculpture. Perhaps she invited him because he took a Figure and Modeling class the last semester; an art student came in handy for the Shiganshina Snow Sculpture Contest. Either his company or his abilities, he would take it. Too bad he spent one hour fighting Eren over the design until Armin decided for them, taking charge like a pro. Mikasa didn’t take Eren’s side, Jean acknowledged with increasing delight. They worked for two more hours and his nose was red and frozen but she did as he suggested, convincing Eren if needed, and fixed his scarf. He would survive, coldness be damned.

It was a good winter afternoon.

Armin, Eren, and Mikasa laughed at their own efforts, the castle didn’t look great but by then, Jean understood it didn’t matter. The trio of lunatics enjoyed the event, the cider, the talking, and they looked at Jean as if he was crazy for caring “too much”. More people worked on their own sculptures, some were unbelievable stunning, some were piled snow with encrusted objects. The little town was having a good time, including Mikasa and company. The boy observed their creation, it wouldn’t win and his teachers wouldn’t be impressed but the beauty he had been wooing for almost six months smiled; for Jean, it seemed more than fine. And yes, he enjoyed the day too, snow and everything.

Everything worked great, but it was freezing and he had never been outside for so long in that kind of weather. How could she manage the cold? He learned more about Mikasa; the girl loved snow with a fierce passion and they had participated in the contest for years.

She added a final touch and like magic, Armin’s grandfather appeared, bringing hot cocoa with marshmallows. Jean thanked him with more enthusiasm than necessary. Armin took Eren for a walk, wanting to see the rest of the sculptures, leaving Jean and Mikasa alone. With a few strangers around, though.

“Let me guess, you really like hot cocoa,” she stood next to him, the weather pinking her cheeks. Jean could see her breath.

“You look cold,” he offered a cup and placed the marshmallows in a heart-ish shape. “Here you go.”

Her eyes traveled from the cup to his eyes. The girl put her hands over his bare hands and he counted four strong heartbeats before she took the cup.

“Thank you for coming and I’m sorry about Eren.”

“My pleasure,” her smile distracted him. “Don’t worry about Eren, he’s a jerk.”

Her eyebrow arched up and Mikasa tilted her head. One of these days he would behave and keep his opinion about Eren for himself.

“I haven’t heard from you in a week, Kirschtein.”

“You said… you said you needed to focus and you had this big final. I didn’t want to bother you,” he scratched his head like a little boy. “Sorry.”

For seven days, the poor guy struggled, avoiding his need to send her a message or call her. Since they started “dating” he had sent her at least one text a day, but in their last dinner, she seemed so worried about her exams; she told him how hard it was for her to give her complete attention to the poststructuralist discourse analysis-whatever, and a bunch of similar complex stuff—that he didn’t understand either. She was worried and he wanted to help her in his own way, not distracting her.

“That is sweet,” the girl in front of him murmured, her eyes never left his, and his heart performed a complete Cirque du Soleil act. “But, you don’t bother me.”

He didn’t know what to say and for once he opted to stay quiet. But not too quiet, the silence embarrassed him more.

“Thank you for calling me.” Jean confessed his thoughts, “I wasn’t sure if I’d see you in the winter break.”

She squinted before opening wide her eyes. Jean felt naked for a moment; it was almost as if she read his mind, understanding everything. She put aside her cup and took one more step forward, closing the distance between their bodies. Jean felt his face growing hot. His neurons worked twice as hard to process the moment.

“Jean, it’s really cold,” the way she spoke, sensual and paused, gave him a heart attack.

“Maybe we should go inside.” Mikasa never complained, so the girl must’ve been freezing. “Eren and—”

Her finger covered his mouth and he stopped talking, thinking, and breathing.

“I’m kind of worried, my lips are feeling numb,” she moved a little forward and they were so close, so impossibly close. Jean watched her in awe. “I think your lips are cold, too.”

“My lips?” He breathed his question.

“Yeah,” the moment she bit her lips, Jean’s brain died. “What if we get frostbite?”

“T-that would be a shame,” he stumbled in his answer, even if it wasn’t exactly an answer. He wanted to be smooth and perfect for her; leastwise he blamed the weather for the shaking of his hands. Hands that should be caressing her face or stroking her hair, not fanning his legs. “What can we do, Mikasa?”

“I don’t know… we could go inside, or drink more cocoa.” Then, her expression melted him. Mikasa lifted her face, lips slightly open and her eyes brightening. He saw his own reflection in those infinite eyes. Jean had it bad for Mikasa and she knew it.

The girl —blushing and daring him— ended the pause without words.

“We could do that, or you can kiss me,” he whispered and in that moment Jean Kirschtein’s face became an object of interest for the Hubble.

“Before we get frostbite,” her breath caressed his face.

“Before we get frostbite,” he repeated, closing his eyes and knowing this moment would seal the spell.

He felt everything, the anticipation, her hands resting on his chest, the chills on her body when his hands caressed her face, their heads moving slowly but certainly to meet in the middle. When his lips touched hers, both were smiling. It wasn’t frantic or desperate, neither slow and passive, nor perfect and choreographed; it started shy with his nose bumping hers before finding the right angle. Their lips learned little by little the taste and form of each other. When Mikasa tangled her fingers in his hair, a soft and appreciative hum reached his ears; taking it as a cue, Jean deepened the kiss but keeping it slow.

She smelled like apples and cinnamon and mountain snow and fresh air.

“Gross!” Jean listened a distant sound, but he didn’t register it until she stopped kissing him.

“Bye, Eren,” Mikasa said; her nose still touching Jean’s, and her lips hovering his mouth.

One second later her lips renewed the kiss and Jean pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up in his embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Mikasa's fluffmas 2k16


End file.
